


on pining, on searching, and perhaps on gods

by Skowronek



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/F, Falling In Love, M/M, Pining, myths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 03:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15765684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skowronek/pseuds/Skowronek
Summary: It all begins in the bleak cold of winter when Victor, god aptly named after his powers, decides to help old Yakov win the love of his life back.It doesn't end. Not really.After all gods are said to live forever.





	on pining, on searching, and perhaps on gods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naamah_Beherit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naamah_Beherit/gifts).



 

 

It all begins in the bleak cold of winter when Victor, god aptly named after his powers, decides to help old Yakov win the love of his life back.

It had to be in winter, since Yakov’s influence grew stronger then, the ice spreading around the globe. Victor designed a plan, quite meticulously if he could say so himself, and even convinced a reluctant Yakov to go along with it.

He expected Lilia to come back to Yakov. That was the only acceptable result.

 

* * *

 

“You can’t do that to me,” Victor said.

It was one thing to be hailed, again,  as a hero. Victor could do that. He was good at that. That’s what the gods always expected – another cunning plan, another story to tell for centuries onward, and him, Victor, golden hair glistening against the snow, him bringing Lilia back to Yakov.

Not this time.

(It happened, more or less, like this. There is no need for exact details. Myths always, always, blur with time and melt with snow.

It happened, more or less, like this: Lilia left her estranged husband and after decades of loneliness found love in the arms of the goddess of arts, Minako. Always a bit reluctant to live in the Pantheon with the rest of the gods, Lilia persuaded Minako to stay in the forest, far from the madding crowd, and close to Minako’s adopted son, a very minor god.

Victor’s plan was a simple one – bring Lilia back. There might be a love potion involved, and none of the interested parties took to it kindly.

It was the first and only time Victor realized why exactly Lilia was the goddess of death and transformation. He never wanted to tell that story to anyone ever again.

He was, indeed, very foolish.)

Now he was held to a pine tree with smoke chains. He had always thought that it was just one of Lilia’s cheap tricks, that she was all cheekbones and steely looks and nothing more, always so quiet. He still couldn’t believe how he could be so wrong.

“Darling, I think he’s learnt his lesson,” Minako said, deceptively calm. Victor used to have a crush on her, he remembered; she always knew how to dress so nicely. “He’s not going to do anything like that ever again, is he?”

She was clearly expecting an answer. Victor decided to nod, furiously. This at least gave him the chance to blink the snow away from his eyelashes.

He was born in a winter, he’s heard – and yet it was always so cold, too heavy on his heart. Maybe that’s why it was then that he always got so impulsive.

He kicked the snow from one foot and then from the either, stomping, and hoped it looked like awkward remorse. Yakov was going to murder him, or worse.

(At least no other gods see him now, just Lilia and Minako, both of them entirely uninterested in gossip.)

“Could you please stop destroying my understory?” he heard then. “I’m kinda friends with it.”

(There is one other god who sees him now and he’s _cute,_ or at least that’s what Victor remembers later, when he’s not a pining mess sprawled on the snowy ground).

The god was, well – Victor thinks he might know who he is and he’s probably seen him around, even though through the span of centuries he’d had no chance to put a name to this face. He was on the chubby side, like a bear eating more when the winter is coming, and there was a softness to his hair and face that reminded Victor of mosses.

He was so sure all the gods were gonna have a laugh about him now.

“Your understory,” he repeated, not really sure what it was. The god – Minako’s son, for sure – looked ready to bolt, but there was something in the whole situation – perhaps Lilia’s gaze – that pinned him in place.

“You’re stomping on it,” the god added helpfully.

And gods, he was so cute, Victor would steal the fire for these eyes.

“Ach. I’m sorry,” he said to the god.

Of course Mila, the goddess of luck, was never on his side, so Victor still didn’t know his name.

“It’s not me you should apologize to,” the god replied. Even these words came across as a bit shy. Victor realized that may be why he kept to the forest. The Pantheon could be a noisy place.

“You should apologize many times, Victor” Lilia sighed. “I’m tempted to curse you off this realm for at least a century.”

Well, that shouldn’t happen. There was a decennial dancing competition in two year’s time, and Victor was determined to win that one.

(Eight years ago, a mysterious god stole the laurels from him. Victor has been a little bit in love with him ever since, but the winner remained forever a mystery).

“No use cursing him off,” Minako interjected. Had Victor taken more time getting to know her, he would realize now that the glint in her eyes bore him nothing but trouble.

But he hadn’t taken more time getting to know Minako. He had no idea what it meant when she glanced at him and then back at her adoptive son.

“Minako?” the cute god then asked, and she just lifted one hand – almost like a gesture in ballet, Victor realized, tracing the elegant line of her fingers. The god fell silent.

“You’ll curse him off for a century and he’ll come back armed with one hundred more years of idiocy,” Minako said. “Or worse, one hundred years of badly thought-out revenge.”

Victor decided she didn’t have a good opinion on him. Perhaps she should befriend Yakov.

Well, whatever she planned to do with him, she clearly forgot that he always won. She couldn’t harm him.

Which meant, obviously, that Victor was free to observe the cute god, who looked like he needed to be taken out on a very nice date on the top of a mountain. Or something.

“You’re already pining hard, tiny god,” Minako mused. “Why won’t we help you a bit? A little nudge might be just what you need.”

While Victor might be relatively unfamiliar with Minako’s gaze, he knew Lilia’s smirk very well. Whatever she did, she looked terrifying, black dress, black hair and all; and Victor knew without a question that any fear he was feeling now was nothing compared to what he was going to feel when he finds out what she’s done to him.

But he didn’t feel any different, or any less alive.

“You’ll thank us later,” Lilia said.

Victor doubted it.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, he still didn’t igure out what they had done to him. The word of his unlucky adventure had already spread like the wings of the messenger god, little Minami.

“You met Yuuri,” Minami gushed to him. “Really! You met him! He’s so! Elusive! And nice! He showed me the forest once! I lost him then! But he was kind! And Lady Minako said he would find his way home! So I guess! He did! He really did!”

Victor didn’t know why Minami wasn’t made a god of exclamation marks. He thought it would fit nicely.

And yes, he met Yuuri, or the cute god. He’d love to walk in the forest with Yuuri. Or get lost with him. He wasn’t picky. Maybe he’d even learn more about this understory.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Victor’s story had achieved a legendary status among the lesser gods and become something akin to a joke among the oldest. Victor wasn’t happy with either of them, especially since Yuuri turned out to be as elusive as Minami claimed, and at least twice as famous as Victor would suspect.

Everyone knew Yuuri. Everyone. Just not Victor.

“Minako herself taught him to dance,” claimed Yuuko, the goddess of friendship, “he moves like made of mist!”

He might be mist, really, Victor thought, the way he disappeared. He thought of the cute god’s eyes, dark and melancholy and strikingly honest; he thought of the way he looked at Victor in concern.

“Oh no,” Yuuko said. “You’re pining.”

This is how Victor learnt Lilia’s curse: twigs sprung from his back, made of black smoke and shadow, and then turned into branches wide like wings. He moved; they moved with him, as if stuck to the space between his shoulderblades where Victor liked to be kissed but none of his lovers caught on that.

And then there were the pine needles, falling to the ground as Victor moved.  These were real. Victor crouched and touched one; it smelled of forest and inexplicable promises.

 

* * *

 

Gods were of cruel constitution, and Yuri, little god of rivalry, was cruellest of all.

“You’re pathetic,” he told Victor, who thought it was at least a little bit untrue. He only hunted Yuri down because for some reason the little god was rumoured to often stay quite close to Yuuri. “At least clean up those needles. You leave a mess wherever you go.”

Victor decided to forgive him. Yuri was just a few centuries old. He wasn’t even around when Victor scored the first few of his countless victories.

“You know where to find Yuuri,” he said. “Tell me.”

“Don’t order me around,” spat Yuri. “You better leave him alone.”

“Well you don’t leave him alone,” Victor pointed out at that, watching as Yuri’s blond fringe turned spiky in anger. “I thought you didn’t like other gods.”

“I don’t like him,” Yuri protested, immediately. “Bugger off! He’s just competitive, okay?”

Victor might lose a few more needles on the spot.

 

* * *

 

The time of the decennial dance competition approached like a storm. Victor should be working on his piece, but he wouldn’t participate this time. Rumour had it that Minako had a real champion this year, like every time for the last century; Yuri, the little god of rivalry, had been heard claiming to beat him. Victor, the newly appointed god of pining, was more preoccupied with the idea that he might find Yuuri in the crowd; surely the cute god would watch the competition if his mother was training a dancer.

At the competition, there was a crowd, to be sure – gods of all kinds and all powers. Victor walked around, unmindful of the stage where someone danced, enthralling the audience. He was leaving a trail of pines behind.

It was eerie, passing around gods swaying to the music, starry night and colourful lights held up above their heads by the sheer force of their powers.

“Oh, so there you are, Victor.”

It was Lilia.

If Victor didn’t know any better, he’d say she looked amused; the quirked line of her lips was pressed just lightly enough for Victor to realize there was no usual anger in her expression, nor was there the discontent that he would often have witnessed during her relationship with Yakov.

Huh. Interesting, that.

“I thought you’d be watching him dance,” she mused, looking back at him. “Especially since you can’t seem to get rid of your little... predicament.”

Of course she’d point that out. Victor just couldn’t stop pining; he wondered how long the curse would last – and while he had no idea how to figure that out, at least now he knew better than to rile up the old gods.

“I’m not here for the competition, Lilia,” Victor replied. There was no use trying to convince her to lift the curse now. She wouldn’t do it – he knew this much. “I’m looking for someone.”

“That I can see,” she answered, glancing at the pine needles. Victor had realised that she was not above little pettiness, but it still hurt a bit. “Nevertheless, Victor, watch with me.”

She wasn’t using her magic for him, but still something compels Victor to stand next to her and turn towards the stage.

“Watch,” Lilia repeated. Maybe she wove a little bit of magic into it. Maybe not.

It’s only then that Victor finally heard the music, ethereal even in the realm of gods – not quite violins, not quite the harp, and a tempo that both slowed and quickened Victor’s heartbeat.

“Watch,” Lilia insisted.

Victor did. That’s when he noticed him.

It was the same god who had won the competition ten years prior, Victor was sure of that. He was, after all, an expert at wining.

The god’s dancing was even better now, his motions fluid, like water, and soft like spring flowers, and Victor’s eyes were drawn to the strong, elegant lines of his body, moving like branches against the wind.

He didn’t know what the god’s power was, other than enthralling with dance; perhaps he was one of the minor time gods, one responsible for stopping the flow of minutes and hours so that the audience would look at him forever.

Then the god turn, all one swift movement, and Victor recognized him.

It was Yuuri.

“Of course,” Victor said.

(Later, in various retellings of this story, there will be inconsistencies. Some will claim Victor confessed his love on the spot. Some will say he confessed his love on the spot, running towards the stage and kissing the dancer’s lips. The reality is, as usual, a little bit underwhelming.)

It all made sense – how Victor would fall twice for the same beauty, because why would he look for it twice. Even his curse made sense now, with Lilia trying to meddle, with Minako trying to meddle some more, and with Yuuri being – well, Yuuri, the god of understory who moved in ways mysterious and inexplicable and very, very beautiful.

So Victor watched until the music ended. He shed a few more pines, too.

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t end when they finally meet and talk. It doesn’t end when they kiss for the first time, many pining months later, and the curse is lifted off. It’s somewhere in the middle, as far as stories go.

The myth ends here now, though, in front of Yuuri, whose face is illuminated by the stars and blushed after the performance. He looks awfully shy for a god.

Victor has never been crushing more.

He’s fine with it. He can wait.

For now – and from now on, even – he can be the god of pining.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a little piece written after I got an anonymous prompt called "pining" and came up with a plot to fit it, maybe a bit more literally than usual. 
> 
> I'm here on [tumblr](http://kaja-skowronek.tumblr.com) if you'd like to hit me up!


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